The Dead End
by MagnusPr1m3
Summary: AU. Seven years ago, on his little brother's tenth birthday, shit hit the fan. Now, he's left to try and pick up the pieces, all the while keeping his brother safe. All he wants to do is make it to his uncle's house, but when they run into another young man trying to escape the cannibals hunting them, can they all make it to safety? Or is this a dead end for them? (Character death)


**A/N: This was originally written as a project for my english class. It's based of 'The Road' by Cormac McCarthy, which is fantastic. I went back and changed a few details around, and magically, it is supernatural. I'm going to put one of those magic line things between each separate part, cause the formatting is kind of odd. I hope you all enjoy, because this writing style is definitely unorthodox. '. . .' signals a POV change.**

**You can consider this a bit of a destiel fic, although it isn't really. Rated T for some bad language. I don't own SPN, just the storyline for this and all. Anyways, enjoy.**

* * *

**The Dead End**

In the early hours of the morning he would always startle awake. A flail of limbs and a sharp intake of breath. His hands would grope beside him to check for the other. Ensure he had not left or died while he slept. He was always there. Asleep beneath the thick wool blanket and tarp they had found. Face blank and greasy bangs falling in his eyes. As he waited for his heartbeat to steady once again he would lie back down on his side and watch the other. Nothing could happen so long as he watched out for the other.

At least, that is the silent mantra he chanted often.

* * *

In his nightmares they were back home just prior to the start of everything. Back when his little brother was just celebrating his tenth birthday. As he smiled and blew out the candle a flash burst in the background. And everything was dark. Everything was still. The hands of the clock froze in place but the ticking remained. He was alone. No mother or father. No nerdy younger sibling with the goofy grin he once wore at all times. Just him in a house that could no longer be called home in a world that had nothing left to offer him with that incessant ticking in the background.

Get up, twerp. He would mumble after hours of lying there in wait. His hand would rest on the other's shoulder and shake rather roughly. Just like all other mornings he would get swatted at and pushed away.

Jerk. I'm up. I'm up.

Get ready to move. We have a lot of ground to cover today if we want to get to Soiux before it's too late. He would stand, brushing as much dirt and soot from his clothing as was possible. Pull the map out of the pocket of his parka and try to find about where they are at. A little under 200 miles away if he guessed correctly. We're close.

Okay. Let's go.

* * *

They did not speak often after they both were up and ready to move. Not unless it was necessary. Safe. Speaking makes noise, their father had told them. Noise gets you killed. You two have to keep each other alive. Promise me you wont do anything to get each other killed?

Okay dad. They said together in hushed voices. We promise

Okay.

* * *

They were running short on time. For all they knew they were already out of time. Pure hope is what kept them moving to where their father was sending them. Hope and his determination to keep his little brother alive. The boy was his life now. And what a sad life it was. All of the comforts they had once been privy to were gone. No parents or school friends. Just movement. Survival. Each other. Their chances were meek but they continued on.

* * *

He did not want to stop. They needed to keep moving so they could reach their goal before it got worse. But brown eyes pleaded at him accompanied by a puckered out bottom lip and he had trouble saying no. Even if his little brother was now nearing his late teens and above this sort of behavior. He shook his head with a groan and looked about. Fine. Make it fast.

Thanks Dean. The younger chirped and scrambled away in his own little awkward manner to get to the doorway. He slipped through a crack just barely big enough for him and was gone. That familiar panic bubbled up in his stomach as his little brother just vanished. He bit his lip.

Hold up. He called out rushing to slip in the place as well. He coughed on the copious amounts of dust he stirred up as he fell to the floor. A soft chuckle greeted him and a hand was in his face.

Come on. This place is awesome. I promise.

Grumbling he took the hand and allowed himself to be pulled to his feet by his little brother. Just make it quick Sammy. You're too old for arcades.

None of the games worked of course. His little brother played around with an old dusty pinball machine since one of the balls was still in the launcher. It made its stereotypical _ping_ sound all of two times before he was over there and glaring. Keep it down.

Okay.

He walked away to look around the building. It was ransacked for the most part. A few dingy left over prizes were scattered about behind the counter. Some stale cotton candy and other assorted sweets. He snagged some for later, stowing it in his batter back pack he carried around. His little brother would enjoy them. Even if they probably would not be as tasty as he remembered. Something was better than nothing when nothing was all that you could find most of the time.

* * *

Their home had stayed as such for the first year and a half. His mother refused to leave it and he was thankful for that. Now he wished he had throttled her. They had not moved and that put them at such a disadvantage later on. They were not prepared for the world outside of their small town in Door County. They were not prepared to run for their lives. To hide like prey in the woods from people they once called neighbors, friends. Least of all for death.

* * *

He got talked into camping out in the arcade where it was warmer. Dusty but not nearly as dirty as the unforgiving ground they slept on most nights. He lay out the tarp for them to sleep upon while Sam got dinner ready. A can of beans heated over a small fire. Nothing special. Barely even edible but better than tree bark. He went to sit by Sam after he had their sleeping area arranged. The small flame illuminated his face as it danced and swayed while they ate. They were almost done when he reached for where he had set his bag down and pulled out the treat. His little brother did not take notice till the bag of stale cotton candy smacked him in the face.

Found that. Thought you might like it.

Is this-

It is. How long's it been Sammy? My twelfth birthday, right?

Yeah. He chuckles while ripping open the plastic like an animal might with his teeth. Thanks Dean.

* * *

Sleep came in a sinister manner just as it always did. He found himself in some darkened woods which was not uncommon anymore. He looked around eyes squinting to try and make out something through the grey. There was the dwindling light of the sun. A sliver of amber hope long forgotten on the horizon. He almost thought that if he could reach through the cloud that surrounded him he might be able to touch it. Feel that long forgotten warmth and just maybe it would all be alright again. If he could tame the sun to his will it would all be fine. His parents would come back. His little brother would be safe. Everything would go back to how it should have been before the ticking began. If only he could slip through the fog and the grey he could fix this.

* * *

It was not such a dramatic awakening that morning. He blinked sleep away from his eyes at the pace a sloth might. He half expected to see the sun peeking through the clouds of ash, close and far away all at once. He went through the morning ritual of watching his brother for a few long moments before shaking his shoulder to wake him. Wake up Sammy. We've got to get moving.

Okay. I'm awake.

I know.

. . .

If he had to pick between being forgotten by his brothers, as he was now, or being captured like many of them were he would choose the former any day. It bothered the young man to travel along in silence through an area he did not know. But this was much better than being devoured like a freshly slain deer. Chopped up and gutted and skinned. Roasted over a fire and served with a side of beans.

No. He much preferred loneliness to death.

* * *

He slept little and moved a lot. That was the only option left to him. He kept walking until his feet were cracked and bleeding then he settled down long enough to bandage them before he would reconvene his trek. Marching on like a good little soldier to try and find somewhere safe. Somewhere he could wait until everything got better or it all ended. There was no one for him to talk to. No one to sleep near for warmth when he did rest. He was completely alone, with walking as his only companion.

* * *

Before he was forgotten it was not so bad. He and three of his many brothers had travelled together. Kept each other alive to live another day in the Hell they somehow got stuck in. Each morning the eldest of the group, a golden-maned man by the name of Gabriel, would rouse them from their slumber one at a time and make sure everyone was fine. He was always the last to be awakened, being the youngest.

Rise and shine Cas. We're waiting on you baby bro.

I'm not a baby. He would grouse each time this was said. And I will not shine. I'm too dirty to shine.

Just get up. We have to get moving. Sun's already up.

Okay.

* * *

He was sure now that his quiet introverted manner is what helped to keep him alive. Trust no one. Even before things went south and he was forced from his home he kept to himself. No friends for him. What was once a cause of worry for his family was now his saving grace. While Gabriel and the others goofed off he hung back. Keeping to the edge of the woods where he felt safer. This was also probably the cause for his current loneliness.

* * *

He had spotted something shiny. A very rare sight in the woods at least. He looked to check on where the others were and slipped through the tree line. The snap of a twig had startled him and he had wasted no time in rushing away to hide. Never getting to see what had pulled him into the bosk in the first place. He lay still behind a toppled over tree trunk and refused to breath for what felt like an eternity. His heart stopped. His mind went blank. He became part of the dead forest for however long was needed to survive.

When finally he felt it was no longer dangerous, not so much more than it always was, he emerged from his hiding spot and ran back to the road. Gabriel! He yelled for the others. Not a good idea but desperation was in the forefront of his mind. Where are you all? He reached the cracked and dirtied pavement. His eyes scanned about. No one in sight. No one living, just rotting corpses left on the road. Hello…? They had left him. Forgotten about him like they had always promised they would not. He was alone.

* * *

He had gone days or what he had assumed were days without sleep. Without eating as well. Any lesser man would have cracked and resorted to eating those less fortunate whose bodies could be found nearly anywhere. Or perhaps not. Perhaps he was no longer a man at all. Just another corpse that still carried on its path. A shell of a once promising young soul that had any possibility of success snatched from him before he could realize his potential. He was what remained.

* * *

The old arcade building came as a sort of relief. Dull eyes shifted about before he rushed to the doors and slipped through a crack. It warmed his heart to see all of the old game machines still nearly intact. Laughter played in his mind and before his eyes the place lit up. Children rushed about, pushing past one another to get to their game of choice before anyone else. Cheers and boos resounding whenever someone finished. He smiled fondly at the sight of a younger version of his siblings surrounding the pinball machine. Cheering as the same golden haired sibling he had trusted for so long worked his magic on the game and racked up massive amounts of points. He shifted his gaze away from them. Shut his eyes. Breathed in deeply. Opened them once more.

It was all gone.

* * *

Someone else had been there before him if the few still lit embers were anything to go by. But after several thorough checks over the place he came to the conclusion that they had left. Hopefully to never come back. Should they though he would fight tooth and nail. This was the safest place he had been to yet and he was not giving it up. Not now. He dug behind the counter and through the kitchen. Managing to find a stray bag of nearly decade old cotton candy that looked so much more appetizing than it should have and something that may have once been pizza but now seemed like it had taken on a life of its own in the aftermath of everything. He ignored the new life form in favor of the sugar floss and settled down for his first measly meal in a long time. His stomach cried out with joy as he filled it. He saved half of the bag before settling down. It was not much but he could ration the rest of it out over the next few days of his journey.

The only thing on his mind then was sleep.

* * *

Cas. Come on little man. There was a hand in his face causing him to blink at the sight of it. He looked up with wide eyes to be greeted by a bright grin, familiar blue eyes, and strawberry blond hair. Everyone is waiting.

He nodded. Okay. He slipped his tiny hand in the other's and let himself be pulled up and tugged along like a child. They walked in silence for a bit before he voiced the curiosity growing in his mind. Where are we going, Lu?

Home. Come on we have to hurry. They were suddenly running. Lou tugged him along with his hand in a death grip and an eager look on his face. We're going home. He kept saying. They're all there. We're going home.

We're going home…

* * *

His eyes flew open and he sat up quickly. The room spun around him and his stomach lurched. He rolled to the side and soon the sugary mess was on the floor before him. Reformed into something much more grotesque. He dry-heaved a few times more before his body slumped and he collapsed back onto the ground. Three words kept replaying in his mind. Three simple words that spurred something inside him he thought to be long dead. Fire caught in his heart and crackled as his mind began to race. In the early morning when the sun was just barely visible on some parts of the horizon he began to plan a route. A route home.

. . .

The sun set and they found themselves once more making a bed on the forest floor. They had made little progress that day much to his chagrin. But there was still some remnant light-heartedness from their stop the day prior. His little brother still laughed and smiled more than before. Still joked and teased him about things one teen might have teased another before everything. He stomped the fire out as his little brother powered up the old camping lamp. One of the ones with the crank on the side to power it. It seemed stupid before when their parents had purchased it but he was glad they had anyway. It turned many of what would be pitch black nights into something much less scary and far easier to handle.

Hey Dean. Could you tell me a story?

How old are you? He asked with sarcasm and some soft affection in his voice. You haven't asked me to tell you a story in ages. Why now?

I don't know. It's too quiet. Please.

I don't have any stories to tell Sammy.

Please.

He sighed. Alright. Just this once.

Thanks.

Later when the story was finished and his eyes barely stayed open he moved to shut off the lamp and get comfortable. He lay for a few moments uninterrupted and sleep almost took hold before the silence was broken once more.

Dean?

Yeah.

Are we going to make it? To Sioux I mean.

Of course. Why?

Just wondering.

Go to sleep Sammy.

Okay.

* * *

The next day he awoke much like he usually would. In a sudden gasp for oxygen and a spasmodic movement of his body that threw everything out of placed and caused a dull ache in his neck. He coughed as he choked on the grey air and spluttered for something pure. Something that was no more. His travelling companion stirred by his side and he froze a bit. Relief washed over him at the sight of the other alive and as well as he could be at the moment. The sun had already risen quite a bit and he stood. Skipping the other part of his morning ritual he walked quietly to the road with his jacket wrapped tight around himself. A dash of orange peeked through the muck in the air at him from across the road and he realized how much they had over slept. Fuck. He hurried back to his brother who had begun to stir himself awake. Get up. We have to move. We overslept.

But Dean-

Now. We have to get moving if we want to make any progress. Come on.

Okay. I'm awake. I'm up.

* * *

They rushed to pack everything up. He threw leaves over the dead ash of their fire to hide one of the only clues to them having been here. Hurry. He urged the other. We need to move to make up for lost time. To stay safe remained unsaid but hung in the thick air between them as they hurried. Let's go. He swung his pack over his shoulder and began to hurry to the roadside with his little brother in tow. We need to go.

* * *

It was only what might have been a few hours later when he realized they were being followed. Not closely. But the threat was there. He signaled this silently to the other and they both slowed their steps some. Their eyes shifted around and back to each other. With a small nod of his head he gave the okay. They turned around and stopped dead in their tracks, eyes locking on a figure in the tree-line nearby.

What do you want? He yelled. You going to eat us?

A tuft of black hair and sharp blue eyes were revealed as the figure pulled his hood down and stepped out of the woods with his hands up. I just want to go home. He croaked. His voice was gravelly and his throat sounded dry. Probably didn't have much water judging by the size of his small pack. I'm not one of those monsters.

How do we know you're telling the truth?

You don't.

It was a good enough answer for him. After he held a silent conversation with his little brother he gestured for the stranger to come over. The young man crept over cautiously. Eyeing them like they might jump him at any moment. He held his hand out in greeting to try and seem friendlier. The name's Dean. This is my brother Sam.

The stranger took his hand and shook it lightly. You may call me Cas. Just Cas.

That not your real name?

It's the only name I'm giving you two.

Okay.

. . .

It was most definitely strange lurking behind the other two. They were close in age to him. Dean more so than Sam. And they were friendly enough. Sam tried to fall back and chat with him. He would respond enough to be polite but divulge little information on himself. Trust no one. That was his policy. And he did not make exceptions for anyone. Not even kind strangers such as these.

* * *

When it was nearly pitch black they passed a sign. Welcome to Fort Dodge. His two new companions looked overjoyed by this. He just shrugged it off. One more city down. God only knows how many more. They continued walking for a little while more by the light of a lantern until Sam nearly fell over from exhaustion. Dean chuckled and they found their way into a small alley behind a convenience store and set up their own little camp. The other two unpacked and went about the process seamlessly as if it had been programmed into them. He felt more comforted to sit back and watch. His mind wandered until he found a dingy Styrofoam bowl full of beans shoved into his hands.

It's all we've got for food. Hope you don't mind.

It is quite alright. Thank you Sam. He nodded to the other before digging in and being careful to eat slower than he had the day before.

* * *

He had not slept so peacefully in such a long time. He curled up near the others under his scratchy blanket he had snatched from a motel. Not too close to them but close enough that he could make out their breathing and the soft snoring Dean made. It was comforting. Familiar. He let his eyes slip shut with a weak smile on his face. What woke him was not a nightmare of his own but the sound of someone else startling into wakefulness. He sat up slowly and rubbed slumber from his eyes.

Are you alright Dean?

The other looked to him like a deer caught in the headlights. Dean averted his gaze to Sam subconsciously and that was all he needed to know.

It is alright. He's still there.

I know.

Okay. Go back to sleep.

Okay.

* * *

Things went on as they did that first day but he felt more included. More accepted by both members of his new party instead of only the younger one. He walked alongside them both. Like a band of soldiers marching into battle they trekked on in relative silence. But it was not nearly so bad. Not really. They made good progress each day and rested up each night. He and Dean began taking turns rousing the other from any fitful dreams or night terrors. It was not perfect. Not even a little bit. But it worked and they all slept better. Felt safer. That was all they could ask for.

* * *

Their next main landmark was a small red black and white lighthouse. Then a lake. Dean and Sam practically buzzed with excitement while he just felt a little happy tingle in his soul. He was getting closer to home. He could just feel it. They camped out by the water that night circled around a small fire. Light-hearted chatter echoed softly around them and they could not help it. He joined in on it all more whole heartedly. When the small talk and the joking began to filter away and were replaced by yawns he laid down on his side and listened to Dean and Sam say good night. Sam fell asleep almost immediately and Dean soon moved to lie down as well.

Dean?

Yes? What is it?

Tell me something. About your life before.

It was nothing special.

I still want to know.

Okay.

* * *

When he was younger he had been eager to please. But shy. An odd combination that eventually led to his introverted ways after disappointing nearly everyone. He did not speak much to his siblings. The only ones that could get through to him were Gabriel and Lu. In some ways they reminded him of his new friends. The way they trusted each other completely. The way they goofed off. How easily they accepted him and how he wanted to open up to them. He could not though. If he opened up to them he could get hurt. They could leave him. Just like everyone else had. He could not have that happening.

. . .

He would never admit it but he was glad they had decided to let Cas stay. The other young man became the friend he had never had before. His presence helped make him happier, brighter. He actually lived now instead of just existing to help keep his little brother alive. He slept now. Actually slept at night. Who knew having someone to talk to, someone who was not family, would help so much?

* * *

They were so close to getting where they needed to be. Dean could already see it. He had how everything would happen when they got there planned out. Everything would be smiles and laughter and he could finally just try and be a teenager again even if that time was long gone, his little brother would be safe and he would no longer need to worry so much. Where they were going was safe.

* * *

Come on man. He shook his head at the other as they lay about the fire. There's no way you have never cussed before.

Never. Cas eyed him seriously. Was it allowed in your household before all of this?

Well no. But that's part of being a kid Cas. You break the rules.

Unlike you I liked being on my parents good side.

You're weird man. Dean chuckled at him as he turned the lamp off. The other was so odd and very unlike him. He supposed that it was why they got along so well. If Cas was like him he still would have gotten along with him. But they probably would have clashed terribly at times. Goodnight Cas. He said as he buried himself in his blankets with a last look to check on his brother.

* * *

Sam and Cas often teamed up on him. Whenever things were quiet for too long he knew something was up. He always did his best to keep a safe enough distance from them when these moments came about. Being the butt of the joke was not at all on Dean's list of favorite things. Although he saw some necessity in the goofiness. It allowed them to for once just act like the children they were meant to be. Even if they were possibly being hunted by other people and might not even live to see tomorrow they needed to keep some optimism.

* * *

Just after having escaped their home town his father had pulled him aside. He pulled a pistol from his pack and showed him how it worked, how to clean it. Just in case. His father instructed while sticking it into his pack. There are five shots left. One for each of us and an extra. If things go south you know what to do.

Okay dad.

Okay.

* * *

Three shots were gone. A rabid old man. A stray dog. And a cannibal. Three shots were gone leaving two bullets for three people. If it came down to it could he make the choice? He knew that either way one was for Sam. He would not let his brother suffer. He would like to think that if the time came he would use the other for Cas. But would he? Was he brave enough to face the world alone and possibly be eaten alive? He prayed he would never be forced to make such a choice because he really did not know.

* * *

They continued to travel on their route. Few upsets occurred and it almost seemed surreal. It should not have been so easy. The food should not have been easily found. The path should have been rougher. Everything was just too easy. It was troubling him. He did not vocalize the worry however. He let them enjoy themselves as they walked on through the grey. He could not find it in him to be the bearer of bad news.

Perhaps it would have been a smart idea though.

. . .

Everything grew easier with time. That is what people always told you at grief counseling and he found it funny how that seemed to apply now. When one of his brothers had died he had thought the pain would never go away. But it grew easier to handle until finally it was easy enough to just ignore it completely. The pain of being alone subsided as well. Their travelling became easier. The physical pain lessened immensely. But just as everything gets easier it can get worse.

* * *

They were all asleep in a barn when the sound of a truck startled him and Dean awake. A truck. No trucks had been driven in years. Gas was nearly impossible to come by. Something was up. Dean woke Sam and he began to pack. They had to get moving immediately. The small shelter they had found could very well be the death of them if they could not move fast enough. Dean yanked him to his feet as soon as everything was secured away.

Come on. We have to run. Both he and Sam were pushed towards the other doors of the barn and forced to stumble out into the cold early morning air. The teen tripped before him and he had to yank him up before Dean crashed into them as well. Hurry! The other hissed at them. Go!

* * *

Everything made sense to him now. The easily located food. The clean roads. They should have noticed before. It was all a trap. One so wisely planned that even non-trusting loners like him were roped into it. Now as they ran for their lives he almost struggled with the urge to laugh. To cry. To do anything to just show how sad the situation really was. But he could not. There was no time left.

* * *

They did not stop moving for what felt like an eternity but could have only been a day. Maybe a little less. When they finally collapsed in a heap in the woods in the dark of the night none could speak. They all struggled to catch their breath and Cas lay flat on his back while trying desperately not too finally break down. His body shook and he bit back tears. He stilled when a hand clamped onto his shoulder pulling him up. He flinched away until he saw who it was.

Come on Cas. Sam spoke softly.

He nodded sadly in response and put on a stern face as he sat with the others in complete darkness. No one dared start a fire and they had left the lamp in the barn. It was with much difficulty that they all fell asleep that night huddled together to reassure themselves that they were all still alive.

* * *

Cassie come on. It was that voice again. He let his eyes open and sure enough his dead brother's hand was before him. Lu grinned down at him and it made his heart ache. It must have been evident on his face because the grin shifted into something filled with concern. Something wrong little man?

He shook his head. No Lu. Nothing is wrong. He insisted this as he slipped his hand into his older brother's and was pulled to his feet. Are we going home?

Not quite yet. But soon. For now we are going for a little walk.

Okay.

Okay.

. . .

He startled awake that morning for the first time in a week. He wiped stray saline trails from his cheeks before he shook both of the others awake the next morning. Slowly but surely they each opened their eyes. Get up. He urged.

I'm awake. Sam said. Cas nodded in agreement and that was all he needed.

We have to get moving. So we won't get caught.

The sound of a truck stopping on the road sent all of their heart rates soaring. The voices even more so. They could hear every word. They must have gone this way. How many? Three. He groaned. They were doomed. After getting so far they had finally been caught. He reached for his pack slowly. Pulling out his dad's old pistol. Two bullets in it. One for his brother and one for his friend. This was it.

Cas! Sam hissed a bit loudly and pulling him from his thoughts. His eyes snapped up and he saw the other rushing through the tree-line.

Cas! Get back here!

His friend crouched behind a tree maybe five meters away from both them and the truck. He made a move to stand and fetch the other but was stopped with a single look. No.

What are you doing Cas?!

I'm going home.

He was beyond confused by that. What? How're you going home? Cas just come back here we can get away. He lied. Come on.

Good bye. The other darted out suddenly. Hooting and hollering for attention. Hey! Assbutts! Over here! Think you rednecks can catch me? Guess again! His friend looked at him one last time and mouthed two words.

Good luck.

The sound of a gun firing echoed around them and his heart sank. There was nothing left for them to do except move.

* * *

They ran for several hours and only stopped when they were encased by three brick buildings and he slammed his fist into the nearest wall. The resounding crack and yelp of pain had his little brother at his side in an instant. He took a hold of his fist and looked it over touching lightly at the now pleading knuckles. We could have stopped him. He whispered.

You know we couldn't. Not Cas.

We never even learned his name. He never told us.

Do you need it?

Yes. I do.

* * *

In the early hours of the morning he would jolt awake. Gasping for air with his heart nearly jumping out of his chest. His hands would grope beside him to check for the others. Ensure that neither had left or died while he slept. Only his little brother was ever there anymore. Face scrunched up and an occasional soft whimper leaving him. He would shake him awake when the whimper grew worse and pull Sam to his chest.

I'm awake. Sam would repeat over and over again. I'm awake. You're awake. We're both here and nothing is wrong. He would only nod and hug his little brother tighter. Nothing could happen so long as they had each other. If only that were true.

* * *

They made it farther every day until he could not rest anymore. He pushed them until finally the sign came into sight. Sioux Falls City Limit. They were there. They were safe. They just needed to make it home. They rushed through the streets they had once known so well to get to where they need to be. Almost there. He kept whispering. Almost there Cas.

* * *

Once when he was no older than three his dad had taken him and one year old Sammy to visit a good friend of his. He was a grumpy man in his mid-forties with a beard that Dean joked reminded him of Santa's but dark brown. The man lived in a junkyard full of old cars and it was any young boys' dream come true. He ran through the rows of cars with Sammy in later years for hours on end until both were tired out. Their father had found them curled up asleep in the back of a beat up old Impala. They had the same routine whenever they would visit. Ditch the adults, play for hours, and then sleep in one of the cars that were safer to enter. It became a second home.

* * *

The great wooden fence had never been such a welcome sight before. They both broke into a sprint when it came into view. So close they could literally reach out and touch it. Bobby! They yelled as they crashed into the gate. Beating on it rhythmlessly. Bobby! It's us! Bobby! They kept at it for what felt like just seconds but soon morphed into hours. Into a day. He collapsed against the fence not long after his little brother did. Both exhausted. Both without hope.

Where do you think he is?

There. He has to be in there. Maybe he just can't hear us.

But Dean-

He is in there. We just have to get in there and find him.

* * *

Climbing the chain link gate was no easy feat. Their pants snagged and their coats got ripped. Neither landed too gracefully. They collected themselves together before moving through the rows upon rows of batter old cars to their last hope. The old house was at the very back of the fenced in area. If Bobby was in there chances would have it that he would be somewhere in that house. Oh how he hoped that the odds were in their favor.

The door creaked open before them and he walked in. Right into the muzzle of a gun. He froze in his place and motioned for Sam to stop behind him.

Who the hell are you two idjits?

Dean breathed a sigh of relief when he heard that voice. Bobby it's us. Dean and Sam. We made it.

There was a momentary silence before the gun backed away from him a bit. How do I know you are who you say you are? Tell me something only the kids would know.

You served as a marine with our dad until you were paralyzed from the waist down. He spouted hurriedly as Sam crept up behind him. And you told us not to call you uncle when we were little cause it made you feel old.

Oh God.

* * *

Bobby showed them around the house that he had fortified as his own little base of operations. He could not go anywhere in his wheelchair so he was stuck here. He had always been a bit of a hoarder when it came to things necessary for survival anyway. Having been alone this whole time he was set. He took them down a ramp into the basement where he had built his safe room years ago. He threw a questioning look the man's way and Bobby had only shrugged. I had a weekend off. Called in some favors and got this done.

Of course you did. Not surprising. But it is safe here, right?

Safe as can be. You guys won't have to worry here. I promise.

Okay.

* * *

Sleep came easier that night. Curled up beneath newer blankets on cots that welcomed them so much more than the cold ground they were used to. The dreams were not easy though. Filled with the screeching of breaks and running. So much running. Until finally they could run no more and they were trapped. No escape in sight. They were going to die… They were all going to die no matter how far or fast they ran. No matter where they hid they were going to be found and they were going to die.

He screamed himself and the others

* * *

awake as he tumbled out of his cot. He landed with a crash and a whimper on the concrete floor, curling in on himself. There he lay as his little brother and surrogate uncle came to his side.

Dean. Dean it's alright.

It isn't. Nothing is alright and it never will be. We're all going to die.

Silence hung over them all like a black veil over a mourning bride's face. Seemingly concealing them from the stark reality they were forced to live. His little brother sat away from him looking hurt. Bobby sat in his chair with a grim look on his face. He just lay there and shook with fear and sadness. They were going to die.

You aren't going to die yet idjit. Stop talking like that. You're going to wind up sucking our will to live out talking like that. Go back to sleep. We'll all still be alive when you wake up.

How do you know that?

I just do. Now go back to sleep.

Okay.

Okay.

* * *

Their mom was the first to go. They had no idea what to expect when they ran into the other survivors on the road. The offer of food and shelter was too good for the family to resist. They followed along with the caravan and chatted with the other people. It was only when they got to the farm that they were staying at that his father thought something was up. He tried to tell this to his wife. Tried to get their sons to safety. But she insisted. We'll be safe here. We'll be fed.

How can you be so sure this isn't a trap?

How can you be so sure that it is?

They were at an impasse and neither refused to give even the slightest leeway. The decision was made for them.

* * *

Get up twerp. He grumbled with a hand on the other to shake him from his slumber. Breakfast time. It felt so odd to say that. When was the last time that phrase left his mouth? One year? Two? A decade even? He had no way to know.

I'm awake.

I know. Come on. Bobby made breakfast.

Pancakes. Made with only water and bisquick but they were indeed pancakes. That and the hot corned beef and hash awakened a monster in his stomach that demanded to be fed then and there. Both he and his brother shoveled the food in, stopping only to drink. Bobby chuckled at them while he ate his own food like a civilized person might.

How do you still have clean water? Dean asked as finished off his glass.

The water here is on a well. Isn't too hard to purify it myself. It's already a lot cleaner than any other water you will find.

Oh. Okay.

* * *

He sulked the majority of the time. It did not feel right. Cas should have been there too. They should have all made it. Sam was alive for which he was thankful. But at the cost of his best friend's life. It ate him up inside. That should have been him. Pain ripped through his heart and he wished for nothing more than to be able to forget the other. But that's the thing. You can't choose what you forget and what you remember. You can only pray that the good memories outnumber the bad.

. . .

He wished that bullet had ended him. Anything was better than this. Better than barely hanging on as he waited for his turn. The others around him sobbed and moaned and prayed for mercy. Lay there in smelling heaps as they did not even bother to use the bathroom anywhere else. He sat back in his little corner and watched with an upturned nose at them. They were mere beasts now. Humanity was forgotten when death loomed over them. The same could not be said for him. He bided his time during the day and walked with his brother in his dreams. We're almost there Cas. Lu said every time with that grin on his face. We're almost home.

Home. Is it nice?

You'll see. Soon Cas soon.

Soon.

. . .

He had a plan. A plan for him and only him to know. Bobby and Sam would stop him. Try to talk him out of it. Lock him down in the safe room. But he had to do this. It was the only way to clear his conscience. He began packing things away slowly. Saving small portions of food here and there. He checked his dad's pistol over and over again. It was not a brilliant plan. Or one he even thought would work. But it was better than nothing.

* * *

He made his move in the wee hours of the morning when the world had it not been dead would be resting. He slung his pack over his shoulder and crept to the door. He had left a note for Bobby and his favorite jacket, their dad's, for his little brother. He slipped out the door and into the blackness without a single thought of turning around and going back to sleep.

You just going to leave us boy?

He was cut short in his movement by the voice. He had thought that both his brother and Bobby had been asleep. He had been almost sure of it. Yeah. He said. I am.

Where are you going?

To settle a score.

You're not going to say bye to your brother?

I have to leave.

When are you going to come back?

I don't know if I will.

Bobby sighed. Okay. Be safe. I'll... Do my best to keep Sam safe. You do the same boy. I better be seeing you back here soon.

Okay. Bye Bobby.

Bye you idjit.

* * *

He walked in the darkness with not even his shadow for a companion on his journey. The pace was fast. Much faster than when it was three. He retraced their steps to 29 and stayed out in the open. No hiding. He wanted to be seen. Be spotted. If luck was on his side the truck would run into him again. And he could have his two bullet revenge. As small as it may be.

* * *

One of many early mornings found Dean and Cas swapping stories as Sam slept. Jaunty laughter echoed around them in the restaurant they had taken refuge in. Somehow Sam stayed asleep through it all and the other young man had hastily gone and found an old sharpy. He held a finger to his lips in a shushing movement and popped the cap off. He knew where this was going. He cupped his palm over his mouth to hide his snickers as his friend lightly pressed the tip to Sam's forehead. In a few sweeping motions a word found its place there.

LOSER.

. . .

He was pretty sure that if he was not dead yet they were never going to kill him. While they slowly ate away at the others he lived with he continued to deteriorate in his little corner as some disappeared completely and new ones came in to replace them. The others would not go near him. Many thought him to be crazy. I'm going home. He always murmured. I'm going home.

You are little man. Lu would say back as he smiled down on him in the gross hovel. You are coming home real soon. We all can't wait. Hurry home.

I'm hurrying Lu. I'm coming home.

. . .

He retraced their footsteps in the ashen ground time and time again. To no avail however. There was no truck. No cannibals bent on eating what remained of the human race. No Cas. Just soot and trees and him. Maybe he had been wrong in going on his quest. He should have stayed back with his brother and Bobby and lived. But what was the point of living when you were all going to die in your own horrid way? Be you eaten or starved. Shot or stabbed. They were all going to die. Someway, somehow. Just like his friend.

* * *

About a week into his journey he spotted the lead he had been looking for. Tire tracks. They had come that way. They were close. The barely smoldering remains of his heart burst with sick joy as he broke into a run while following them. He wasn't a failure after all. He could still succeed. He traced them along their twisting and turning ways. Up and down side streets and dirt roads. All through the countryside until he could barely continue to walk along and he collapsed into the earth. He was nearly there. Vengeance would soon be his.

. . .

It grew harder to keep his eyes open. Harder to move. The festering bullet wound in his shoulder helped little with all of this. He leaned against the wall with half-lidded eyes and coughs escaping his lips more often than not. Sometimes iron-flavored liquid came up with it. Stay away from that one. They whispered. He's got death written all over him. Won't live to see tomorrow.

He wished that were true. He just wanted to go home already.

. . .

At night he dreamt of before. Not before the flash and the darkness but before the truck. Back when it was just three young men against the odds. Together. When they laughed in the face of danger and hunger and nightmares and ruled the world. His slumber was filled with jokes and small talk by the fire side. All things he could never again have. Things that had slipped through his fingers before he could even realize he needed to hold on. Nothing but a memory.

* * *

The tracks ended. Simply stopped in the middle of the road as if the cannibals had evaporated into the grey like many others before them. He swore loudly, not caring who heard. He cursed God and the Devil. Buddha and Allah. Even Morgan Freeman. Anyone he could think of that could have even remotely affected the situation. He damned them all to an eternity in his shoes now. You soulless bastards! Stop toying with me! He shouted for hours until his voice cracked and gave beneath the force of his anger. The world had heard him. But there was no answer.

* * *

He continued down the road anyway. Hoping to find the tracks once more. Praying to the same God he had blasphemed to help him. Just this once. He whispered over clasped hands. Please. It's all I ask of you. If you ever wanted to prove to me you were real now would be perfect. Sammy's safe. All I can ever want now is to find those sons of bitches and get back at them for Cas. Please. Please…

* * *

There came a time when the road forked off two ways. A choice was forced to him. Left or right. Simple. A fifty-fifty chance of finding what he was looking for. The same chance of not though. He stood there stupidly for what seemed like hours with his eyes darting between the paths. He barely had any food left. If he made the wrong choice he might as well sentence himself to death. He took a deep breath and closed his eyes. Eeny meany miney moe… He whispered pointing between the two paths. It was the same as just picking one at random. He opened his eyes when the childish chant was over.

Right. The choice was made.

* * *

He often wondered how his little brother was. Did Bobby tell Sam why he left? Did he hate his guts for not telling him himself? Was he out looking for him then or had Bobby kept him back at the junkyard? What was going on? Did they miss him? Had they moved on? Were they even still alive? He supposed he would never know. Not now at least.

* * *

It began to rain while he was sleeping. The light _thunk_ of a dull grey raindrop onto his cheek followed by another and another until he was forced to find his way under the tarp to stay dry. They pounded against his makeshift shelter and he curled in on himself to preserve his warmth. He could do little but sit there and curse whatever being decided to bring rain to the desolate planet. Can you not give me a break this once! He yelled over the thunder of water droplets against the tarp and the ground and the crack of lightning across the sky.

It seemed not.

. . .

Rain leaked through the roof of their holding pen and dripped onto his frail form. Down his face and over dried and cracked lips. A hacking wheeze escaped said lips as he parted them to draw in a shaky breath. He was barely hanging on anymore. Barely alive. He shivered and tried to huddle up in a little ball in the corner. He was so tired but sleep did nothing for him. With the thunder and rain he would never sleep now even if it would help. Please. His voice rasped to no one in particular. Please. I just want to go home.

The doors opened and everyone but him looked to the newcomer immediately. Three brutish men in ponchos and other less rain resistant attire entered, eyes scanning and leering at their captives. Which one tonight boss? The one on the far left asked. They all look pretty good for the most part.

Not all of them. His companion on the far right motioned to Cas. I think that one is dead.

Then why not him? Saves us the trouble of having to listen to him beg for mercy.

He doesn't look like he has much meat on him though. We'd be gnawing on bones.

Both of you shut your traps! The middle one, tallest of the three and with a face that would make even the most loving mother shy away and cry growled out. Everyone in the barn cowered away except poor little Cas. We aren't going to eat him. He looks like he's filled with diseases. I don't plan on dying today, thank you.

If you say so boss. There's one over on the other side. She looks mighty healthy. Real plump too. Maybe her?

He appeared to contemplate it for a moment before nodding at the wide-eyed woman. Yeah. Get her.

. . .

He was close. He could just feel it in his bones. Soon Cas. He would say as he walked along with the tarp and blanket wrapped around him. Soon I'll make it up to you man. And it'll be all good again. He would march along until his feet bled in his shoes and he had to stop because they refused to support him any longer. Soon. He would mumble as he bandaged the sores. Soon…

* * *

A few more days and his food was gone. With nowhere in sight the hope of replenishing his miniature stockpile was nonexistent. He was not too bothered by this. Should it get too bad he could always eat a bullet. He thought that once and the laughter that fell from his lips was crazy and sick and so not like him that he had to sit there for several hours with the gun before him safe in the pack. Out of reach yet not all at once.

* * *

When he slept there were no longer night terrors. No ticking or tire screeching. No gunshots. No death. Just him. Sitting by a stream his dad would take him fishing at when he was little with a rod in hand. The bobber floated on the water peaceful and the fish tugged rarely but that was alright. Fishing was a sport for those who were patient. If you waited the fish would come to you. And they did. He would reel them in. Unhook the creature. Study its lithe body in his hands for a moment before releasing it once more. And then he would cast his line and begin to wait again.

* * *

After what felt like an eternity he stumbled upon an old farmhouse that looked to have been abandoned since before everything went wrong. It was dilapidated but strangely homey. He stopped before it. Looking around to see a barn several yards away. An old tractor in a field laying on its side. Stacks of hay. All covered in the same grey that lingered everywhere else. He strolled up the walkway and onto the porch before he stopped. Something felt different. Felt off. But right.

* * *

He walked around for a bit. Scrounging through the things in the house. Upon entering it he found that it really was not so abandoned as he thought. It appeared someone or rather several people had been there for quite some time before him. He quickly ate a little meat he had found and backed out of the side door. Something was not right in that house. Something was wrong.

The sudden sound of an engine in the distance punctuated that fact. Without a second thought he bolted to the barn and slammed the doors behind him.

. . .

He was startled from his near slumber by a sudden ruckus and his eyes slammed open. There was the buzzing of words, soft, all around him and he looked to where everyone else was. He blinked. Once. Twice. A third time just in case. Was that really…? Dean?

The man in question looked to him with wide fearful green eyes and tensed. Cas? Oh my God is that really you? He managed a weak nod in response. Dean pushed through the masses and tumbled by his friend's side. Cas how're you- I thought- But the gunshot!

Shh. He said with a grimace. You're so loud. I was trying to rest Dean.

Well you can't continue resting. We have to get out of here. Now.

No.

No? Why not?

Because I want to go home Dean. I want to go home and sleep takes me there.

But they're going to get us Cas we have to go. Come on I have you let's _go._

No.

Dean groaned. In his manic excitement and desperation he looped a hand behind his friend's knees and neck. Cas I'm getting you out of here. Now.

* * *

The woods were close thankfully. Close enough for the two friends to get away before they were even truly acknowledged by anyone other than the remaining captives. He knew they would tell. They were all gossips after all. But that was the least of his concerns at the moment. Dean. He managed. Dean where are we going?

I don't know. Somewhere safe.

But what if they find us?

It's alright. Don't worry. I've got a backup plan.

* * *

They could not move far. Dean was too weak to carry him and he was too weak to walk. So they found themselves now resting in a clearing in the woods. Dean beside him sitting while he lay there and looked up. Searching through the grey for stars. For life. Dean.

Yeah Cas?

Would you tell me something about before?

About what?

You. Sam. Anything.

There's nothing special about me or Sammy.

That doesn't matter. Just tell me something. Please.

Okay.

Okay. Thank you.

* * *

His eyes slipped shut easily as Dean droned on and on about random things. His first bike. Sam's first crush. Anything that his friend felt he should know. He felt his breathing slow. His heartbeat stuttered a bit clumsily. A hand slipped into his own and his eyes slipped open once more. Lu? His head tilted to the side in curiosity.

His brother grinned at him and nodded eagerly. Welcome home.

. . .

He waited until he could no longer find his best friend's pulse and the thud of boots was close. He calmly pulled off his pack and set it before him. He slipped his hands inside of it and retrieved his longtime companion. It weighed less in his hands than he remembered. Less on his conscience than he would like to admit. He clicked off the safety after checking to make sure everything else was in place. He had not done exactly what he planned on when he set out. He had not taken down any of the men that had caused his friend's death. But he supposed that was alright. He was here when Cas needed him. He had helped him go home. Now there was only one thing left to do. He put the muzzle of the gun in his mouth. Counted to three. Shut his eyes. And pulled the trigger.

* * *

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